Scared of Myself

I look at the clock, 12:30, my mum should be asleep. quietly I slip out of bed and grab my leather jacket and jeans, it’s freezing. I glance down at my scrawny frame, I can see the goosebumps on my skin and realize that I should really start wearing pajamas to bed, my underwear really isn’t enough. As I wander through the dank house I pull on my jeans and zip up my jacket. On my way out of the door I grab an apple and rip my phone off of the charger. As soon as I cross the threshold I regret not getting properly dressed and toy with the idea of going back to get shoes and a shirt but my phone vibrates before I get the chance. The text is from Noa, of course. Noa: Hey, you up? Me: Yeah... Noa: Why? Me: I could ask you the same question, what do you want?

I stare at my phone for a few seconds and then get fed up waiting for him to reply, I take off sprinting down the drive way at the speed of light. I can only run fast when I’m in a certain mind frame, and that mind frame includes this sort of night. it’s perfect, the air is crisp and the moon is so bright that I don’t need a flashlight, it’s beautiful.

When I reach the end of my road Noa replies, great timing.

Noa: Why do I have to want something? what if I just wanted to talk to you? Me: But you don’t, you only text me in the middle of the night if somethings important Noa: ...she told me that you’re a lying b**** and that she hates you Me: Who? Noa: Who do you think? Me: Tell her that hating someone is like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die. Noa: Tell her yourself Me: No Noa: Why? Me: You know why Noa: No I don’t, no one does...what exactly happened between you two?

I read his text three times and then sit down where I was standing in the middle of the road.

Me: I don’t know either

I see head lights in the distance and slowly lie down.

Me: Noa, I’m scared. Noa: Of what? Me: Myself...

Subscribe

Get Teen Ink’s 48-page monthly print edition. Written by teens since 1989.